


maybe just for tonight

by orphan_account



Series: morals left to decay [2]
Category: Ghost Rider (Comics), Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For a wild moment, Frank thinks the Ghost Rider has transformed into awoman. But no ─ the long blond hair and short stature belong to someone who is decidedly male, Frank realizes as the man turns to face him.It's been two decades, but looking at Johnny, you'd think it'd been two or three years at most.





	maybe just for tonight

**Author's Note:**

> i was too lazy to write porn sorry lmao. a continuation of [that college au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717021) that probably nobody will understand. it's fine. shhh. don't worry about it.
> 
> proofreading is for cowards. title from kinda i want to by nine inch nails.

The first several times Frank Castle meets the Ghost Rider, that's _all_ he meets ─ the spirit itself, not the man whose body it inhabits. And frankly, he doesn't care who the Ghost Rider is. Not as long as they get shit done the way they need to.

But eventually, he lingers around long enough after a mission that he actually sees the Ghost Rider turn back into the man. Frank can't help his curiosity, and he pauses a few feet away from his bike, turning to watch.

For a wild moment, Frank thinks the Ghost Rider has transformed into a _woman_. But no ─ the long blond hair and short stature belong to someone who is decidedly male, Frank realizes as the man turns to face him.

It's been two decades, but looking at Johnny, you'd think it'd been two or three years at most.

Johnny Blaze's hair is longer, his expression more somber, but everything else is almost exactly the same as it was when Frank saw him last. Even the jacket, Frank realizes, looks old enough to have been the same one Johnny had been wearing back then.

"What the hell," Frank blurts before he can stop himself.

Johnny glowers at him. "If you say one goddamn word about my height─"

"Not that," Frank says, waving a hand impatiently, although. Johnny is _very_... Compact. " _You._ You're Johnny Blaze."

"Yes," Johnny says slowly. He must be used to being recognized. "Is it really that big of a surprise?"

"No. Yes. It's just ─ we've met." Frank shifts his weight from side to side. He doesn't exactly advertise his sexuality; it hasn't mattered in years. "Uh, about twenty years ago. You look... The same."

"Have we?" Johnny's brow furrows, and he takes a few steps closer. "You've seen me get shot and shrug it off, Castle. Hosting the Ghost Rider grants me a few other abilities, too. I'm probably a good decade older than you. Where did we meet?"

"You..." Frank's not sure how much of his past is public knowledge. Suddenly, he's beginning to regret saying anything. "It doesn't matter. I was just caught off guard."

"You're hiding something," Johnny accuses. Frank bites the inside of his cheek and looks away. "C'mon, Castle, where did we meet? Y'know I'll remember eventually."

"Goodnight, Blaze," Frank says flatly, and retreats to his bike, ignoring Johnny's protest.

───

When someone drops into the seat directly beside Frank at the bar a few weeks later, he's more than prepared to tell them to fuck off ─ but there's that pale blond hair again. Privately, Frank wonders if Johnny had any difficulty getting onto the high bar stool.

"Blaze," Frank greets warily.

"Castle." Johnny orders a drink, then turns toward Frank with a smirk tugging at his lips. He leans in a little, lowers his voice. "You went to Jesus school. We met at a frat party." Johnny hesitates, but must decide to leave the rest unspoken. "... Right?"

Frank shifts uncomfortably. He sighs, glances away, and nods once. "Yeah. And it's called seminary school, Blaze."

"That's an unfortunate name," Johnny drawls, and Frank barely resists the urge to roll his eye. "I thought I recognized your name from somewhere." A pause. "Was I really your first?"

Frank huffs and finishes his glass of rum. "I was going to school to become a priest, Blaze. What do you think?"

"God, that's weird. The Punisher was almost a priest instead of a soldier." Johnny eyes him for a moment, amused, then shakes his head and finishes his own drink.

They lapse into a companionable silence for a good fifteen minutes. It's odd, Frank thinks; this should be far more uncomfortable than it is. When Johnny finally breaks the silence, it's to ask, "So... Was I good?"

"What." Frank can't quite manage the proper inflection; he's too startled by the question. Johnny just looks at him. He's different, they both are, but Frank sees a little of that carefree grin from twenty years ago in the small smirk Johnny is giving him now. "I ─ it was twenty years ago, Blaze, I don't know."

Johnny drums his fingertips on the counter and hums as he considers that. "When I ran off, just so you know ─ that wasn't because of you. The other guy wanted out, and I couldn't really control him too well at that point." He runs a hand through his hair, and Frank hates the way he can't help but track the movement with his eye.

"Yeah, well." Frank doesn't really know why he says what he says next, but if asked, he'd probably blame the alcohol. "Got my practice somewhere else, eventually. Your loss."

From the looks of it, Johnny clearly wasn't expecting that response. He huffs out a startled little laugh and shakes his head. "Doesn't have to be my loss, Castle," Johnny says.

Frank wants to be surprised, but he's not. The moment Johnny acknowledged their history, Frank knows part of him had been expecting this. He could say no. Maybe he _should_ say no. But instead, Frank shrugs one shoulder and glances up. "Doesn't have to be," he agrees.

Frank downs the rest of his drink and pulls his wallet from his pocket, dropping a few bills onto the counter as he gets to his feet. He notices, with no small amount of amusement, that when Johnny moves to follow suit, he has to sort of jump rather than step down from his stool. Johnny notices him watching and scowls, wordlessly daring him to say something. But Frank says nothing, just smirks and heads for the door. Johnny trails after him.

Once they're outside, Frank ducks into the shadowed alleyway and crowds Johnny up against the wall. He's so _short_ ─ Frank lifts him up easily, eliciting a soft, surprised grunt from the blond. Johnny opens his mouth, perhaps to voice a complaint, but Frank silences him with a kiss. Johnny wraps his legs around Frank's waist and tangles one hand in Frank's hair, the other one gripping at the front of his jacket.

They kiss until they're both breathless, until they both forget why this is a bad idea. When they break apart, Johnny is the first to speak.

"We're both too old to fuck in an alleyway, Frank," he laughs breathlessly. "My apartment is 'bout ten minutes away."

"I got a safehouse down the road a couple blocks," Frank offers instead, sounding a little hesitant. It isn't often that he allows anyone but Micro into his safehouses, but... Well. He trusts Johnny, just a little bit.

"Well let's go, then. I'll follow you." Frank kisses Johnny hard one last time before letting him down. He's not particularly drunk, and it's a short distance, so Frank isn't too worried about taking his bike.

The safehouse is in the back of an abandoned flower shop. Frank parks and waits for Johnny to do the same, then goes to unlock the back door. He leads the way through a small, dark passage, then flicks on a light switch in a bigger room. The walls are lined with firearms of all kinds; ammunition boxes and other weapons crowd most of the surfaces in the room. There's only a small corner of the room stocked with bare essentials ─ a mattress, a coffee maker, a hot plate ─ to show that it's used as any sort of living area and not just as an arsenal.

Johnny whistles under his breath, but clearly, he has more important things to worry about ─ and so does Frank, for that matter. Frank gets his boots out of the way right in the doorway, and Johnny follows suit. Then Frank yanks him forward again by the waist, eliciting a surprised grunt from the smaller man.

The two push and pull at each others' clothing impatiently. Frank can't keep his hands off Johnny for long; he has the bizarre urge to map out the other's flesh with his hands, to see and touch everywhere.

Frank settles, however, for shoving Johnny up against the kitchenette counter and sinking to his knees.

"My turn," he murmurs, tugging down Johnny's pants and mouthing at his cock through his boxers. Johnny's breath catches in his throat, and he runs a hand through Frank's hair wordlessly. Frank meets his gaze for a moment, then smirks as he tugs down the waistband of Johnny's underwear. "Hopefully it'll have been worth waiting for."

───

Frank has slept with a handful of people since his wife died. Each time, he left immediately afterward, regret and guilt gnawing at his insides.

This is not one such time.

They'd made it to the bed eventually; Johnny had ridden Frank fast and hard, earning himself a second orgasm just before making Frank cum, too. Sweaty and sticky and still panting a little, the two of them lay on Frank's rather small cot, Johnny half on top of Frank still just so he doesn't fall off. Neither speaks for a while; perhaps it's seconds, perhaps it's minutes. Eventually, though, Johnny rolls to the side and very narrowly avoids falling off the cot.

"Take it you don't have a lot of bedmates?" Johnny snorts, sitting at the edge of the cot and running a hand through his hair.

"Not really," Frank shrugs, sitting up. He slides off the cot and goes into the kitchenette, coming back with a wet rag and a bottle of water. He hands the latter to Johnny, then kneels in front of him and uses the rag to clean up the mess that slicks his belly and thighs. Johnny watches him curiously. Frank doesn't notice until he glances up.

"What?"

"Didn't take you for the aftercare type," Johnny admits with a shrug, cracking open the bottle of water. "It's kinda cu─"

"Your balls are two inches from my hand, and I have a very strong grip. Choose your words carefully, Blaze," Frank says dryly, setting aside the rag. Johnny laughs, and Frank throws Johnny's underwear at his face in retaliation. "Laugh it up. You're the one who has to ride your bike home right after riding an eight-inch─"

"Don't be so crass," Johnny scolds, and now it's Frank's turn to be surprised; he even huffs out a short laugh. Johnny frowns after a moment, though, glancing to the door with a distinct look of distaste. "You _could_ be a gentleman and let me stay the night."

"Or I could kick you out and go to sleep," Frank replies, but there's not much heat to the words. Privately, he's always prided himself on being a gentleman in bed. "You realize calling this cot twin-sized is being generous, right?"

"Then I'll sleep on you," Johnny replies, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Frank hesitates, considering that. It really _would_ be awfully rude to just boot Johnny out now, and...

Well, twenty minutes later finds them both asleep, Johnny curled up on Frank's chest with his face tucked into his shoulder. What do you know? They fit, after all.


End file.
